Bittersweet Memories
by iamhermionemalfoy
Summary: Narcissa Malfoy wanted to keep her son away from the Death Eaters so she resorts to a desperate choice. She seeks the help of the most unlikely person to be trusted-the mudblood.
1. Bargaining with the Devil

**Bittersweet Memories**

A/n: …so after five years, I finally had the urge to revamp this old fic of mine, Bittersweet. This is the edited version, so expect changes in the plot (and grammar, thank goodness). This is AU by the way, so we won't be following the HP plot completely. And I changed my username too. It's now iamhermionemalfoy (the same one as my Tumblr url) and it will stay that way until I am old and wrinkly, I swear on Dumbledore's grave. There. On with the story...

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: Bargaining with the Devil<strong>

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><p>"You will not interfere."<p>

Lucius Malfoy's cold voice echoed around the spacious master bedroom of the Malfoy Manor, followed by a loud smashing of glass on the hard stone wall. Narcissa stood across her husband, back straight as lance and chin tilted up in a bravado she had perfected years ago. No, she refused to be cowed by him ever again. She would not let her battered ego get in the way of protecting something she considered more important than her own life—her son.

"Lucius, honestly, how can you even consider this? Draco's our only son, he—" the rest of her words were cut off when Lucius slapped her hard across the face. Narcissa didn't even flinch at the pain, as she was far used to her husband's cruelty.

She loved this man. She really did, else she wouldn't have married him. He had changed a lot since he had gone to serve the Dark Lord though, morphing into a heartless monster that she can barely recognise. Soon his loving caresses turned into abusive beatings, breaking her heart into pieces. The love in her heart became poisonous hatred, pumping like acid in her veins until she was completely consumed with the dark emotion she never thought of feeling for her own husband. She loathed him; Loathed how he aimed to make their son a miniature version of himself, how he brainwashed Draco with his prejudiced opinions and morals.

"I'm not going to repeat myself again, Narcissa. You will not interfere. Draco is bound to serve the Dark Lord just as faithfully as I have. He will uplift the Malfoy name again in Lord Voldemort's eyes and take the same responsibilities I did," Lucius said calmly, his grey eyes piercing his wife's oddly indifferent ones.

Narcissa didn't answer. A muscle twitched in Lucius' jaw, and his fists curled into tight balls. "Promise me you won't interfere," Lucius said, his hand harshly cupping Narcissa's chin so she could look at him in the eye. He was fiddling with her thoughts, she knew. It was fortunate that she had been a master of occlumency long before they got married, thanks to her deceased father. It was a gift she never truly appreciated until this moment.

It took a minute before she answered. "Yes, Lucius." As she said that, her fingers crossed behind her back, and from that moment, she knew she was going to have to resort to drastic measures.

She would bargain with the devil if it meant saving her only son.

"So what did you want to talk to me about, mother?" Draco asked his mother as he entered the drawing room, curiosity etched on his pale face. It was disconcerting, how much he resembled Lucius physically. They both had the same shade of white-blond hair, same calculating grey eyes, and even the cynical curve of their mouths looked eerily identical. Narcissa had been standing by the French windows, staring at the gloomy atmosphere outside, lost in thoughts, when he came in. As she saw her son, however, she couldn't resist giving him a hug.

It just might be the last thing she'll ever do to him.

She felt Draco stiffen in her embrace, but she understood why. She had rarely shown any outward affection for him in the past years, because as Lucius had said, "Coddling the boy would make him a weakling."

When she pulled away, she saw her son looking at her bizarrely. "Sit down, dear," she murmured, ushering Draco to a chair. Draco immediately did as his mother told him, his wary gaze not leaving her face.

Narcissa went over to one of the cabinets and pulled out a decanter of brandy, along with a couple of gold-gilded goblets. She filled both glasses with the amber liquid, discreetly pouring a dash of blue liquid from a vial she had procured from her robe pocket when Draco wasn't looking.

She then picked up the two goblets and offered one to her son, who stared reluctantly at her. He cocked his head to one side, unsure of what to say next.

"Mother, I am not—"

"Drink," Narcissa ordered. "You look distraught, Draco. I'm sure a glass would calm your nerves,"

"I am perfectly fine, Mother," Draco responded exasperatedly, but he took the goblet from his mother's outstretched hand anyway. Narcissa watched as he took two careful sips, then set the glass on the table and looked at her.

"What did you want to tell me?" he asked bluntly. Narcissa took a deep breath as she also set down her goblet. "Draco, dear, you do know that I love you, don't you?" she asked softly. Draco slowly nodded, a pale blonde brow rising as though waiting for her to elaborate.

But it seemed that he was waiting in vain.

Narcissa felt a bitter smile tugging at her mouth when she saw her son's eyes beginning to droop. His long lashes fanned against his cheekbones as he fought to keep his eyes open. "And that I would never do anything that would not be for your own good?" she finally spoke, glad that her voice did not break.

"M—Mother, what—" he slurred out.

"Then I hope you will forgive me for what I will be doing," just as Draco's eyes slid close, Narcissa raised her wand and pointed it at her son's forehead, tears rolling down her cheeks without her notice.

"Obliviate."

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><p>It was raining, and Hermione Granger resisted the urge to hurl her resistant umbrella on the street. Of all the times her umbrella wouldn't budge, it really had to be during a stormy weather.<p>

She balanced her groceries on her arm and again attempted to tug at the umbrella, which, to her relief, finally opened. She had been walking on the sidewalk when the rain suddenly started pouring, so now she was practically drenched, but at least her groceries were safely tucked in her cloak.

Leaning the long handle of the umbrella against her left shoulder, she started walking towards the subway, her boots splashing ungracefully against the muddy sidewalk. She loved the rain, but she was not particularly keen on being soaked to the bone without any form of warning beforehand. London weather tended to do just that, and she should be used to it by now, but there are just some things she could never bring herself to adjust to. She hated adjusting to unpredictability.

Hermione unconsciously hastened her stride, eager to get back to the Headquarters so she could finally change into some dry clothes and get warm. She hoped Molly cooked her tasty hot soup, and Tonks would bring over her usual bag of sweets… Merlin, she was starving.

She had spent the entire day transferring her parents to another location and making impenetrable wards around their new home. It had been a fairly easy task, but tiring, and she realized that she hadn't eaten since the previous evening. The anxiety to keep her parents safe had been far too important than food.

They were not going to be involved in this war, and she intended for it to stay that way.

Hermione was sinking further in her thoughts, unaware of a hooded figure watching her intently from an obscured alleyway.

Narcissa had been watching the girl for about fifteen minutes now. She quickly recognised her, as she vividly recalled the first time they were introduced to each other at the World Cup four years ago. After the introduction, when she, Draco, and Lucius had been seated in their private box, her son had begun his usual rant about the saint Potter, the pauper Weasley, and the mudblood Granger.

She fully recalled her son's expression as he raved about the filthy little mudblood that beat him at every subject and dared not to acknowledge his superiority as a pureblood. No, the look didn't just contain hatred; she had the feeling that her son also held a certain hidden respect for the girl. That realisation surprised Narcissa a bit, for Draco rarely showed high esteem for anyone. True, his respect was barely conceivable through all the insults and derogatory comments he hurled her way, but it was there, preferring to go undetected by the young witch.

And during the chaos when the Dark Mark appeared, Narcissa had observed from a distance how Draco had cruelly, however indirectly warned the girl of the danger. That's when she concluded that her son did not fully hate the muggle-born lass.

He just hasn't realised it yet.

Narcissa snapped out of her little reverie from the past, her shrewd eyes trained on Hermione Granger, who just walked a little bit past her. She didn't waste the chance to grab her by the shoulder and haul her inside the dark alleyway. The girl must have screamed, but her protests were futile to the resolved woman and the conniving weather.

Hermione began to dig in her pockets for her wand, but Narcissa had already pointed her wand at her neck. The girl went rigid, fear flashing in her dark eyes as she tried to hold the older woman's gaze. Narcissa leaned towards her and whispered in her ear, "I won't hurt you," lowering her wand slowly from the younger witch's quivering form.

"Lumos," Narcissa said, and the tip of her wand lighted up, giving her a fair view of the girl in front of her, who looked deeply frightened and confused. When Hermione saw the face of the person who had pulled her in the alleyway, her mouth dropped open.

"You—you're—you're-"

"I'm Narcissa Malfoy, and I'm here to ask for your help."

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><p>Hermione stared at the woman in front of her in absolute terror. She blinked, wondering if she heard right; after all, the wind was practically howling and the thunder was boisterously rumbling. But judging from the look on Narcissa's face, she surmised she heard right.<p>

But why would Narcissa Black Malfoy, wife of a pureblood Death Eater, ask for her help? It sounded wrong; it was utter nonsense. Hermione usually didn't bother with such things, but this was different. It seemed surreal and ominous, like fragments of a nightmare she wanted so badly to wake up to.

"Please, you have to help me," Narcissa's broken voice jolted Hermione from her thoughts. "You're the only person I can run to. I know you can help me, you're the only one I can trust enough to do this. Please…" the older woman ranted on, and after every sentence her voice got more hysterical, her words coming out incomprehensible.

"Why do you need my help?" Hermione queried as some of the shock began to wear off, replaced by an unpleasant curling in her stomach. She had a sinking feeling that what Narcissa was about to say will be a very bad news. Malfoys never bode good news.

"Miss Granger, you have to help me get my son away from his father," Narcissa managed to say through her tears, her lip quivering as she waited for the girl's reaction.

Hermione was called 'The Brightest Witch of her Age', but ironically, she a difficult time trying to digest what Narcissa was trying to convey. Maybe it was because she didn't want to understand. She refused to understand.

Hermione stood frozen on the spot, unspeaking, quite unaware of the rain pouring down her face and the uneven wall bricks digging against her back. She stared at Narcissa, whose hands now gripped her shoulders in a very unyielding grip. "Lucius is planning to make Draco a Death Eater, and I would die before I let him. Please, help me protect Draco, please don't let Lucius take him-"

Hermione finally found the strength to speak. "You don't want Draco to become a Death Eater?" she asked incredulously. Now that was a shocker; she had always perceived the Malfoys to be strictly united in their decision-making, including where they made their loyalties known. It never occurred to her that the Malfoy Matron would not support her husband's obvious desire to serve Voldemort, much more let her son take the same evil path. It was a surprising piece of information, which unhinged the remaining rationality she had left in her brain.

The woman before her gave a weak nod, tears still pouring from her eyes, mingling with the raindrops that splattered on her face and robes. "Pr—Promise me you'll take care of Draco, and that you won't let his father take him away…"

Hermione was silent for a long time, her mind going completely blank. She honestly didn't know what answer to give to the pleading woman before her. She looked like she was telling the truth, but she couldn't be too sure…

Then, Narcissa said something that oddly chased away the doubt swimming at the peripheries of Hermione's mind.

"I know I don't deserve your trust, but I want you to look past our statuses and believe that I have enough faith in you to leave my son's life in your hands," the blonde woman said softly, looking at Hermione straight in the eye, silently begging her to use legilimency, if needed.

"I'll help you," Hermione answered an eternity later, and Narcissa managed a small, grateful smile through her tears. "Take care of him," she whispered, then, with a small cracking sound, she was gone.

Hermione stood there for a long time under the raging storm, her umbrella sprawled on the ground, and her grocery bags lying soaked on the cold stone floor. When she was able to think coherently again, she thought, _What have I gotten myself into?_

She had bargained with the devil.

She didn't know how long she stood there in the rain, her hair hanging in wet clumps around her face and her clothes clinging like second skin on her body.

Only when she started to tremble violently from the cold did she start to move. Having no intention of picking up her umbrella or her fallen things, she began to walk, but her foot got caught on something and she fell forward- not on the hard ground, but on something much more soft- was that a man on the ground?

She blinked several times as she tried to make out through the dark who or what the thing she landed on was. Unfortunately, the whole place was now pitch black, so she hastily dug her pockets and brought out her wand.

"Lumos," she muttered, and a faint glow was emitted from the tip of her wand. She pointed it close to the figure, and gasped at what she saw.

Leaning on the brick wall of the narrow alleyway was an unconscious Draco Malfoy, who was wearing a hooded dark-coloured robe. He was also sodden with the rain, the raindrops rolling down his face and body in rivulets.

_Is he still alive?_ She thought in panic, her free hand frantically searching for a pulse. She sighed in relief when she found one at the base of his neck, faint, but steady. After that she started to heave him up with her, but he was far too heavy, and his wet robes were making the job harder.

Inwardly cursing, Hermione thought about shedding off Draco's robes, leaving off his equally soaked sweater and pants, but thought the better of it. With the last scraps of her energy she heaved him up again, and after the third try she finally succeeded. Slowly she hobbled away from the alleyway, Draco's slack weight in tow.

She paused to pick up a can littered in the street, then pointed her wand at it and murmured, "Portus." She grabbed her companion's hand and placed it on the can along with hers- then they were both pulled forwards by an invisible force into a swirl of blurry colours…

With a thud they landed on the ground, Draco's body now fully draped over Hermione's in a rather obscene manner. Hermione took no notice of this however, as she was already pushing his body away from her.

When she was able to straighten her composure, she staggered up and slung Draco's slack arms around her shoulders and stood up, then closed her eyes to concentrate on her thought.

_The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at Number 12, Grimmauld Place, London._

The headquarters appeared almost quickly, and Hermione opened the door and gingerly stepped inside, Draco still unconscious beside her.

She hobbled on inside, walking as quietly as she could as not to disturb the paintings on the wall.

When she reached the end of the hallway, she went up the stairs leading to the bedrooms, pausing every now and then to take a break; Malfoy certainly was no light-weight, and her low energy level wasn't helping either. She thought about levitating him with her wand, but she didn't want to alarm anyone who might see her… and him.

When she reached the top of the stairs, Ginny stepped out of their bedroom at the same moment. Her brown eyes did not miss the sight of Hermione carrying an unconscious man, and she gave a loud gasp.

"Hermione, what happened?" the redhead asked, sprinting over to Hermione with a nervous look on her face. Hermione was grateful that the hood had concealed Draco's face, or else Ginny would be in a panicking fit. Then an angry fit.

"I'll explain later," Hermione said, catching her breath from all the effort. "Help me put him in my bed first," Ginny immediately complied as she swung one of Draco's arms around her shoulder.

When they had finally laid Draco's unconscious form on the bed, they were both panting with exhaustion. "What happened?" Ginny asked again, looking over at Hermione.

"Promise not to shout first, Ginny," Hermione requested firmly, and Ginny nodded. She went over to the bedside and pulled off Draco's hood, and Ginny gave a low sob of fear.

"Narcissa Malfoy brought him to me," Hermione explained in a tired voice. "Apparently, she doesn't want her son to become a Death Eater, as opposed to her bastard of a husband,"

Ginny was still staring at the unconscious man with frightened eyes. "Did he willingly come with you?" she asked, her voice coming out high-pitched and filled with unconcealed fear.

Before Hermione could answer, the bedroom door swung open again and Harry entered, Ron lagging casually behind him. "Hey Hermione, I thought I heard you come in," Ron said. "Where's my bre—" he froze in his tracks when he saw the figure on the bed. Harry also stopped.

"Who's that?" Harry asked, a frown creasing his brows. Ron walked past Harry and peered at the face of the unconscious man. When he saw who it was, he took a step back, a look of horror on his face.

"What's wrong, Ron?" Harry asked. "Who is it?" the only answer he got from his red-haired friend was a quick shake of the head. Irritated, he walked over by the bed to look at the face of the stranger.

He found himself staring into the face of his sworn enemy.

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><p>An: So… to those who have read the old version, do you like this one better? Let me know. Tell me what you think. ;)


	2. Waking up to Nothingness

**Bittersweet Memories**

A/n: This is a remake of Bittersweet, an old fanfic of mine.

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><p><strong>Chapter 2: Waking up to Nothingness<strong>

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><p>The silence in the room suffocated its occupants like putrid poison filtering the air.<p>

Harry stared at the slumbering face of nemesis for a long time, then at Hermione, who was visibly tense, body strangely poised for combat.

"What is he—what is he doing here?" he finally inquired a minute later, his tone coming out hoarse, as though he was trying to put a reign on his barely concealed fury. Hermione recognised the look on her friend's face too well; she had worn the same expression before in the presence of Draco Malfoy, years ago when they were both still in school.

"I saved him from a terrible fate." She answered in a defiant voice, taking in her companions' stunned reactions with a trace of pity. She knew everything was a perplexing mess at the moment, and very difficult to understand. Even she, Hermione Granger, had trouble digesting the fact that she was protecting Draco Malfoy from his own family from this evening onwards, a laughable thought were she asked about it in the past.

Nothing seemed laughable at the moment though, from her friends' arrested expressions to the unmoving form on her bed.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked after a few moments of silence.

"Narcissa brought him to me," Hermione started in a drained voice. "She doesn't want Malfoy to become a Death Eater, so she decided to hide him from his father,"

Ron finally gained the strength to speak. "She entrusted her only son to you?" he asked in disbelief. "What about the git? Does he want to become a Death Eater?"

Hermione glanced over at Malfoy's slumbering face, a knot forming on her throat as she tried to answer. "I… I don't know."

Harry's gaze was getting more and more intense. "Hermione, I know you mean well but—"

"I didn't have a choice, Harry!" her voice rose in agitation as she struggled to make them understand. "Narcissa cornered me in an alleyway, told me about her unfortunate circumstances, and left Malfoy to me before I could do anything else!"

"You could have left him to rot in that bloody alley!" Ron interjected furiously. "He deserves it—to be left in the middle of nowhere by his own mother—"

"Ron—"

"He would only be trouble, you know how that bastard's mind works, and if you endanger all our safety because of your insane—"

"Ron, shut it," Ginny cut in, earning a livid glare from her brother. "Let Hermione speak. She must have something to say, something that can support her decision—"

"But she hasn't been thinking clearly, just look—"

"Ron, keep quiet." Harry's cold voice immediately silenced the furious redhead. "Hermione… tell me what made you decide to bring him here," Hermione's heart tore a bit at the pleading note in Harry's voice. She knew how the situation was confusing him. "Make me understand,"

"I believe Narcissa's word." She finally said when she could no longer stand the silence. "Merlin knows why I do—but there was something in her voice—and her eyes—that made me sure she was telling the truth," she paused, gauging Harry's reaction, but he concealed his emotions well. "She actually wanted me to use Legilimency on her so I could see for myself whether she was lying or not, but I didn't need to…the mere fact that she was brave enough to try to let me inside her mind—it was enough proof for me,"

"Proof of what?" Ginny asked.

"That she would desperately do anything to protect her son from harm, including having to place her trust on someone she hardly knew, someone she considered well below her station…"

And so there went her three friends' doubts deflating like a popped balloon. Ron simply threw his hands up in the air in disgusted surrender and stalked out of the room; Ginny walked over to Hermione and touched her on the shoulder, recoiling when she realised that her friend was drenched to the bone.

"You better change out of those clothes," she told Hermione. "I'll… I'll watch over Malfoy while you do, and Harry can tell Remus and the others about… about our new visitor,"

Harry's eyes snapped to meet Ginny's in silent communication, then he walked out of the room without another word. Hermione shot the redhead a grateful smile, then proceeded to the bathroom to change her clothes.

She began to feel the stabbing coldness of her clothes then, and the uncontrollable shaking she was surprisingly able to suppress earlier. With numb fingers she shed off her ice-cold garments and put on a cotton shirt, a thick woollen jumper and jeans. She caught sight of her reflection on the mirror just as she was about to leave, and she couldn't help but cringe at her hideous condition. Her face had a pallid tint to it, and the dark circles under her eyes did not improve her looks one bit. Her lips were bluish from overexposure to the cold, and her hair hung limply against her shoulders in wild disarray.

Remus, Tonks, and Molly were already in her bedroom when she returned. Ginny was sitting in a corner, here eyes trained disdainfully on Malfoy's sleeping form.

"Oh my goodness," Molly Weasley broke the silence, her eyes round with genuine surprise. Tonks blinked, hovering a few inches above Malfoy's face, brows raised in perplexity. "Is this… my cousin?" she asked, and Remus nodded his bitter confirmation.

"Hermione," Remus started, his eyes focused on Hermione. "Harry just told me what happened. I just want you to answer a few questions—"

"Oh come on, Remus, the girl looks dead on her feet—"

"No, it's alright," Hermione interjected. "Thank you for your concern, Mrs. Weasley. I will answer Professor Lupin's questions first,"

"Well, sit down, dear. You look like you're about to faint," Molly gestured to the seat next to Ginny, and she complied immediately.

"I need to know the exact words exchanged by you and Narcissa Malfoy, Hermione," Remus announced seriously as he paced mindlessly around the room. "We can never be too careful. As Harry suggested, it could be a trap—"

"The poor boy is soaked!" Tonks' sudden exclamation halted Remus' speech. "Can't we get him some dry clothes before you go on with your inquisitions?"

Remus flitted an irritated look at her direction, but he nodded. "Will you get us some dry clothes for him?" he asked Ginny. "I think he's about Ron's size…" Tonks piped up.

"Oh, as if Ron would let that git borrow anything from him!" Ginny burst out in exasperation. "I'll ask Harry instead," and with a swish of her long red mane, she was gone.

Hermione then told them about her entire conversation with Narcissa, a precise version slipping out of her trembling lips. Remus listened intently, while Molly and Tonks attempted to rid Malfoy of his sodden clothing.

When she was finished, Remus released a tired sigh as he rubbed his temple. "It seems that this is no ploy after all," he muttered. "Narcissa wants her son protected from Voldemort, whether the young Malfoy likes it or not. He will have to stay with us… or in another safe house…"

Ginny's sharp intake of breath whipped Hermione's eyes towards the doorway, where she stood, alongside Harry. He had a small bundle of clothes in his arms which he clutched rather tightly. "Malfoy's staying here, then?" he repeated quietly.

Remus gave a nod, and the dark-haired boy crossed the bedroom in quick, purposeful strides, dumping the clothes at the foot of the bed, and exiting without another word. Ginny gaped at his retreating form, looking so tempted to follow him, but Molly requested assistance in clothing the unconscious Malfoy heir.

"He needs to adjust-" Ginny started defiantly. "Remember, this is Sirius' home, and it's quite difficult to digest that a slimeball like Malfoy will be inhabiting in-"

"I understand," Hermione replied warily. She understood so well she could feel the guilt stabbing at her, for causing unwanted trouble in Harry's newly acquired abode.

"Hermione, could you sort out the clothes Harry donated?" Tonks asked, finally managing to remove Malfoy's sodden robes. Hermione's eyes impersonally swept over Malfoy's slack body, inwardly noting how translucent his skin looked against her burgundy sheets. He had obviously lost weight, for the last time she saw him at Hogwarts, he had still been superbly fit from playing Quidditch.

It was pretty hard to believe how almost a year had passed since their seventh year.

"Shouldn't we just wake him?" Ginny asked no one in particular.

"No, I don't think anyone's up to dealing with him this late in the evening," Molly answered absent-mindedly. "Besides, the poor man is sleeping too soundly to be disturbed. I think Narcissa may have used a heavily dosed Sleeping Potion on her son,"

"I hope that's all she used," Tonks commented dryly as she glanced down at her cousin. "Are you alright there, Hermione?"

Hermione's eyes snapped up from the floor. "Yes. Yes, I am," she answered.

She started sorting the clothes like she was asked to, while Molly and Tonks wiped him dry. Ginny collected the drenched clothing and dumped them on Hermione's laundry basket.

"Shirt please," Tonks called out, and Hermione automatically held out the first shirt she could reach. She handed over a pair of trousers next, unable to look at her ex-nemesis' unclothed form without discomfort. Or awkwardness.

Suddenly the floor seemed to be slipping from under her, and before she completely lost her balance, Molly had rushed over to steady her teetering form. "I—I'm alright," she rushed out before anyone could say a word. "I just… I haven't eaten a thing since last night—"

"Well why didn't you say so?" Molly barked. "Go on, have Ginny accompany you to the kitchen—" she practically shoved Hermione out the door. "We'll take care of Mister Malfoy until you come back,"

And so Hermione had no choice but to trudge downstairs, Ginny walking quietly by her side. She could sense that the younger witch was bursting with so many questions, but was unexpectedly holding back.

"You might as well ask me whatever it is you are thinking, Ginny," she said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "I'll try my best to answer, I promise,"

"Later," was all Ginny said. "You need to eat first, I think."

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><p>Hermione ate her late supper ravenously, quite uncaring that Ginny was watching her eat and she seemed a bit lacking in the table manners department for the exception of that evening. The younger witch pounced with her questions right after Hermione swallowed the last gulp of water from her glass, which didn't catch her unaware.<p>

She knew how curious Ginny can be.

"What are you planning to do with Malfoy?" she asked bluntly. "You know… once he wakes up and realises that he is staying under the same roof with us?"

Hermione chewed on her bottom lip as she considered Ginny's question. A million answers crossed her mind all at once, but she honestly didn't know which one to do or divulge. "It would depend on the situation," she answered slowly. "If he would be difficult to handle, we'll have to restrain him, and explain the situation—" she paused when she heard Ginny snort derisively.

"You know he would be anything but easy to handle, Hermione," Ginny scoffed. "What if he refuses to stay here and live under the Order's protection? What will you do then?"

"I think it would be something for the whole Order to decide upon, don't you think?" Hermione countered coolly, but she felt anything but calm. "I only did the right thing—"

"I know," Ginny interrupted earnestly. "I wasn't trying to insult you, for crying out loud. I'm just asking you about the possible consequences—"

"Fine!" Hermione was horrified to find herself bursting into tears. "I won't apologise for bringing him here though, and I will stand by the decision I made—I will handle Malfoy on my own, and I won't ask for your help!" she hastily swiped a tear that had rolled down her cheek and looked away from Ginny.

"Listen, Hermione…" Ginny began, reaching over the dining table to squeeze Hermione's quivering hand. "I never said you had to apologise for bringing Malfoy here, and I most definitely made no mention of refusing to help you in handling him. Whether you like it or not, we will help you. We're all in this together, you know. We will help you battle this dragon, I promise,"

Hermione gazed at her closest female friend with watery eyes. "Thank you, Ginny. I was just… I guess I overreacted. I'm sorry,"

"Completely understandable," Ginny responded emphatically. "I think you need a good night's sleep so you can resume to your calm, rational self,"

"I will," she lied. She knew she wouldn't be getting a decent slumber tonight, because she planned on waiting for Malfoy to regain consciousness herself.

However, Malfoy wasn't in their room when they returned. Tonks left a brief note saying she transferred her 'cousin' to a spare bedroom at the end of the hallway and had assigned Remus to watch over him.

Hermione won't allow this, of course. Malfoy was her responsibility, after all. She brought him here, and it was her duty to keep an eye on him and make sure that he won't do anything to harm the other members of the Order.

"I'll watch over him," she said, earning a rather irritated glance from the ex-Hogwarts professor, who was lounging at the only available couch in the room, reading a book to pass the time.

Her eyes riveted towards the young Malfoy heir, who still looked dead to the world. If not for the slight rise and fall of his chest, he could easily pass as a corpse.

"Go to bed, Hermione," Remus answered. "If it's worrying you too much, I will wake you once he regains consciousness,"

"B—but you don't have to do this—"

"Don't argue. Now, off to bed," he pointed at the door, and Hermione meekly complied, knowing she could not win over this argument with her old professor.

"Alright… good night, Professor," she said softly as she turned to leave. She was unable to stop herself from asking one last question though. "Sir… did I do the right thing?" she asked. The question had been nagging her mind since she returned to Grimmauld Place, and she needed just one affirmation to rid her of the guilt wracking her system.

Remus closed his book and set it down on the empty space beside him, a sombre look on his ragged face. "I think you did," he answered thoughtfully. "You always do the right thing, Hermione, and that makes us proud,"

Hermione's cheeks flushed at the compliment. "Thank you, Sir," she whispered. "I needed to hear that."

* * *

><p>Narcissa hastily shrugged off her wet robes and dumped them in the laundry basket for a house-elf to pick up, trying very hard to calm her frazzled nerves.<p>

She locked the door of the master's suite and dropped ungracefully on the bed, crying in anguish for her son, whom she had left in the hands of the enemy. No, enemy was not the right term, for she never considered the Order as such. They were just… the other side. The side that her son believed to be wrong and unworthy.

Her son… she hoped Draco would fare well, and that he would change his mind about the people he considered his foes. The memory charm she had used on him was not a strong one, which would only last for a couple of months at the most. She prayed that by then that the war would be over.

And that her husband would be a cold body buried six feet under the ground.

Yes, such a cruel thought of a wife towards her husband. But Lucius Malfoy was no longer a loving husband. He was now merely an evil stranger with the same physical features as the man she fell in love with. She honestly wished he would just get killed by one of the people from the Order so she and her son could finally live in peace.

Those were her last thoughts before she fell into troubled slumber.

* * *

><p>Hermione woke up hours later feeling a lot more refreshed than she did before she went to sleep. However, when reality caught up with her brain, she shot up from her bed so quickly, blood rushed angrily in her head, dizzying her for a moment.<p>

She rose from the bed when the vertigo subsided; the urge to go to Malfoy's room and see if he had already regained consciousness overwhelmed her mind. She closed the door quietly behind her, not wanting to wake Ginny. Waking her would mean having to join Hermione in visiting the Malfoy heir.

She did not want to ruin her friend's morning like that. Hermione knew she was the only one up to battling dragons so early in the morning. To her disappointment however, he was still sleeping; contrary to Remus, who obviously stayed up the whole night awake.

"I'll take over now," she told Remus, who nodded tiredly and mumbled a thanks before ambling out of the room. She headed straight for Malfoy's bed when the old Hogwarts professor left, her eyes skimming over his unguarded features for any changes from last night.

Nothing. Still the same impossibly long lashes fanned across his high cheekbones, same slightly pursed mouth, same light breathing pattern. Strangely, he still looked dangerous, even in slumber.

Hermione gave him a light nudge on the shoulder, but he remained still and unmoving.

She was getting impatient.

"Finite," she murmured, aiming her wand on his slumbering form. To her disappointment, nothing happened. He slept on like the dead.

"Wake up," she hissed, giving him a hard prod on the arm. Still nothing. "God, Malfoy, this isn't going to be like Sleeping Beauty. I would rather eat my own vomit than kiss you—"

The rest of her sentence died in her throat when his eyes finally slit open, his grey irises extraordinarily alert-looking and… defensive?

Hermione wasn't able to find out, for the next thing she knew, he had pulled her down on the bed with him and was trapped under his body before she could force out a shout of help. Not that she would ask for assistance, because she could most certainly handle Malfoy on her own. She could.

The livid fire in his eyes flickered her resolve a bit, though. He looked like a feral beast that was ready to pounce on its prey; his white-blond hair stood out in different directions, and his nostrils flared as he stared menacingly down at her. He was breathing harshly too, his hot exhales caressing Hermione's startled face.

"Where am I?" he asked quietly, his voice coming out rusty from obvious lack of use. "Tell me, or I will have to force you," Hermione detected the heavy threat in his tone, and for a second she wondered what exactly he would do to gain her compliance.

"I will tell you, if you get off me first," she bit out, but he didn't budge.

"Tell me," he edged his face nearer to hers until their foreheads were touching. Hermione tried to push him off her, but he had pinned her wrists on her sides with his hands. "Stop fighting, you bitch. I won't hurt you if you tell me—"

Hermione attempted to kick him, but he had trapped her legs between his own. "Stop moving, I said—" she ignored him and tried to wiggle away from him again. He gave a low curse, trying to adjust against her struggling form. To her horrification, she felt his hard arousal brush against her abdomen, and she froze.

"Finally, you get some sense knocked up into you," Malfoy breathed, his eyes holding hers. "Now tell me where I am, and who the bloody hell you are."

* * *

><p>An: ...so how was it? I hope it wasn't as OoC as the old version. Tell me what you think guys.


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